In The Name of the Father
by JonoGwood
Summary: A religious cult known as 'the Heavenly Avengers' is murdering 'moral dissidents'. Batman resolves to stop them before they claim another victim.
1. Chapter 1

1\. Forgive Us Our Trespasses

* * *

A cold wind buffeted through the dark alleyways of Gotham City. Christopher Marlowe, a magistrate at the Gotham County Court, was caught up in the relentless onslaught of the gust. As he was walking down, a priest walked alongside him, matching his pace eventually.

"Hello, Father," Christopher yelled above the wind. "Horrid weather, isn't it?"

"Indeed," replied the priest, shouting to be heard above the swirling wind. "I was taking a shortcut back to my parish. Needy people awaiting a confessional, you know how it is."

"I suppose so," agreed Marlowe, though he felt a little apprehensive. "I thought that the church was a block behind us, Father."

"Ah, yes, I am awfully forgetful sometimes," chuckled the Father as his fingers worked around his silver cross necklace. "The wind must have blown me away, I suppose."

Marlowe laughed. "I guess so... Say, don't I know you from-"

That was all he had to say before the priest began strangling him with the necklace. "Father, forgive us our trespasses," he was saying as he wrought the necklace tighter and tighter around the magistrate's neck. "Have mercy on his soul."

* * *

 _"A second man has been strangled to death and had his forehead branded by a former priest known only as Frollo. GCPD officers believe the murder was random, and are offering a reward for his capture..."_

"Master Bruce, you may be interested in this," called Alfred Pennyworth.

"Just when I thought Gotham had exhausted its supply of homicidal zealots." Bruce Wayne ambled into the main entertainment area of Wayne Manor, grimly assessing the situation. This was new, he thought. A religious nut. Wayne himself had no qualms with religion: some of the senior officers at the GCPD had Christian faiths, and Alfred's family were mostly Anglican believers. Even so, something seemed a little odd. Gotham wasn't known for religiously motivated violence. Something had to give.

"Alfred, if you need me, I'll be in the Batcave," Bruce said at last. "I'm going to run some checks on this... Frollo. Somehow I don't want to be confessing to him."

"Right you are, sir," Alfred replied. "I should think not."

* * *

As it turned out, background analysis on Frollo was filled with unpleasant surprises. A former priest at Gotham Chapel Church, Judas K. Moorworth became dissatisfied with the behind-the-scenes politicking inside the church, and left. He soon became involved with a cult known as 'the Heavenly Avengers'. The cult devoted itself to murdering prominent judicial, political and celebrity 'adversaries'. These 'adversaries' were marked for murder based on whether they had publicly broken one of the Ten Commandments. Christopher Marlowe, the latest victim, was seen in public with a woman who was not his wife: it turned out he had been having an affair. He was thus destined for eternal damnation. The modus operandi of 'Heavenly Avengers' assassins was to brand victims' foreheads with the sign of the Christian fish. This was seen to be 'God's work'.

'God's work, huh?' Bruce wondered aloud. He was able to unencrypt a FTP network owned by the cult, and was able to download its Mission Statement. He printed it off and read it to a stunned Alfred.

 _"Murdering moral dissidents is an act sanctioned by the Most High. Our work is sanctioned by the Almighty, and by purging such immoral detritus from this Earth, our heavenly rewards will be much greater,"_ Bruce finished.

Alfred didn't say anything for a long time. "I suppose they're... committed to their work, sir?"

"They've murdered dozens of people since the early 2000s," Bruce grimaced. "Every Sunday, a new murder is slated to be committed. Alfred, these people are undermining the good work the church is doing in this city."

"Sanctioned by the Almighty?" snorted Alfred derisively. "One wonders how theologically sound their mission statement is."

"I must stop them," Bruce resolved. "If I don't, who will?"


	2. A Time To Remember, A Time To Die

The mood of the service was somber, and admittedly a little off-putting. Wearing civilian clothes and glasses to avoid being identified, Bruce Wayne sat through the commemorative service of the life of Christopher Marlowe, the Heavenly Avengers' latest victim. The last time he had been in a church service was before his parents' murder, so naturally, Bruce was unaccustomed to the functioning of such a religious ceremony. All he knew was that the priest was talking for an awfully long period of time. He also knew that the bread and wine offered for communion seemed a little past their use-by dates, though that wasn't his main concern. The main objective was to locate Father Robert Harris, an elder in the church he had paid a visit to: Gotham Baptist. Through considerable detective work, Bruce had discovered Fr. Harris had been friends with Judas Moorworth before he had broken away from the priesthood and become a murderer. At any rate, it was worth a chance to find out other reasons for Moorworth's descent into madness.

The service concluded after about ninety minutes; Bruce silently pondered if this was a record for a funeral. He walked up to the pulpit to face the priest looking sympathetically down at him.

"Are you a friend of the deceased?" the genteel parishioner asked. Bruce shook his head in a vague attempt to feel some sort of emotion. "I'm here to speak with Fr. Harris," he replied.

"Oh? Are you looking to repent for any past sins and restoring your relationship with the Lord?"

"No... I have private matters to talk with him about. It's about the Marlowe murder."

The priest paused. "He is available. Just go down the hallway, and to the right." Bruce did so, and before long the man he was after sat before him. He was poring over Scriptures when he found him.

"Father..." Bruce began. The priest's head shot up at the source of the disturbance. "I've come to talk with you about a serious matter." Fr. Harris continued reading the Gospels, ignoring him.

Bruce was undeterred. "The Marlowe case... I have reason to believe that the killer was an associate of yours."

"You speak slanderous lies!" snapped Harris, turning to face him. "I would not dare to associate with... with... a heathen! What impure devil has possessed you to ask such a horrible question?"

"Father, I have the best of intentions. I'm a journalist trying to uncover the case." He had to admit that the disguise wasn't exactly subtle, but it had to do. Fortunately, Fr. Harris didn't seem to notice. "Does the name Judas Moorworth ring any bell?"

Silence hung in the air. Robert Harris drew in a laboured breath, and closed his eyes.

"He... he was an apprentice of mine. He helped collect the offering trays, he proofread my sermons for Sunday, he did some administrative duties... Then he left for another church. The last time I saw him, he seemed furious with the world. He told me he'd put things right... I have no idea what he meant..."

"Judas became involved with a cult known as the Heavenly Avengers. They're a group of religiously motivated assassins who kill those who publicly break the Ten Commandments. He adopted the alias 'Frollo'. I have a feeling he was behind the murder of Christopher Marlowe."

"He was always saying that Mosaic Law had to govern this city," Harris remarked. "I thought he was saying it in jest, but perhaps he had somewhat of an ulterior motive..."

It was at that moment that Bruce saw the red dot of a sniper's gun at the back of Harris's head. "Get down!" he shouted.

As both men ducked for cover, a deafening blast reverberated around the confines of the chapel. As the two men crawled to the rear door, bullets whizzed above their heads like firecrackers.

"Why would they be after me?" cried Harris in alarm. "I didn't do anything!"

"Someone must have known somebody was coming to investigate," Bruce replied. "The Heavenly Avengers want to cover up the murder, most likely."

Shots continued to ring out as the men leaped for safety, and into the darkness. "That was a close call..." Harris began.

 _BANG._

Harris's body slumped onto the cold pavement below, blood pooling quickly around his head.

"A shame," a voice murmured behind Bruce. "A holy life, lost to the mists of time." The assassin kicked Bruce onto the sidewalk. "Uncovering the truth leads to an early grave..."

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	3. Confrontation with a Killer

_"Uncovering the truth leads to an early grave..."_

Bruce found himself pinned to the cold, unforgiving asphalt. The man who had killed Father Robert Harris had a murderous gleam in his eye. His mouth was contorted into a hideous, wide grin, his front teeth prominently bared, almost shining. In his right hand, the steel hell of his Glock pistol was aimed at Bruce's head.

"Bruce Wayne," the killer's voice sneered. "You thought you could find out about the Heavenly Avengers. Surely, you know that every investigation has its consequences..."

It was then that Bruce knew the identity of the gun-toting maniac. It was Judas K. Moorworth himself, his unrepentant eyes surveying his prey, his mouth twisting and stretching once again into a horrific smile. "The world's greatest detective, huh?" He fingered the trigger of the Glock, then moved his hand across the metallic sheen of the top of the gun, shuddering with anticipation. "I really expected more from you, Bruce."

He didn't expect a swift kick to the stomach. Reeling from the attack, Judas fired the Glock as a reflexive movement. The bullet sailed over Bruce's head, only succeeding at hitting a nearby wall. Getting to his feet, he locked into a fistfight with Frollo. The two men parried, lunged, dodged, ducked and went for the jugular in a frenzied dance of violence. Frollo tried his best to render Wayne unconscious, but as many villains came to realise, this was ultimately futile. He was left sprawled and dazed on the sidewalk.

"Come on!" he shouted. "Kill me! End this now! An eye for an eye, right? Finish this, you coward!" When it was obvious that Bruce wouldn't, Judas sprang up and began the onslaught anew. "Give up," he spat. "What's the use of continuing? You already know the outcome, don't you?"

"Yes. I do," replied Bruce as he delivered a crushing blow. Judas was splayed out on the ground, unconscious.

* * *

Upon his return to Wayne Manor, Alfred bandaged his wounds as best he could.

"This is the price you pay for figuring out a cult of murderous thugs, sir," the butler muttered as he carefully dressed Bruce's shoulder injuries.

"Aren't you glad I'm still alive?" he replied with a smirk.

"Quite, Master Wayne. But I would have thought you might have resorted to... less violent means."

He grimaced. "Tell that to Judas."

Alfred's eyes widened. "He fought with you, sir?"

"A futile effort, Alfred. He was unconscious within minutes. He'll probably wake up in a GCPD cell. Or at least he should, owing to the murder of a member of the clergy."

"Dear me..."

After an uncomfortable, lingering silence, Alfred cleared his throat. "These... Heavenly Avengers are quite Spartan, are they not?"

"Medieval."

* * *

The hall of the Heavenly Avengers was filled with anxious murmurings amongst its members. The news of Bruce injuring Judas had quickly spread, leaving the head, Damien Livingston, to incite action.

At present, Livingston hushed the feverish crowd.

"As many of you now know, Brother Judas was cowardly assailed by the great sinner... Bruce Wayne."

A collective gasp reverberated around the hall once more.

"Yes, another sin added to the numerous sins perpetrated by this... this..." Damien was sputtering now: "...this... _heathen_."

He regained his composure. "Rest assured, brothers, that no bad deed goes unpunished. Clothed with righteous power, we, as agents of the Almighty, will avenge this savagery and mark this perpetual sinner to the eternal fires of Hell!"

The crowd was thrown into chaotic yells for retaliation, of vengeance. "May Wayne burn in the eternal coals!" came a cry.

Damien grinned. "Oh, he will, brothers... very, very soon..."


	4. Showdown at Wayne Manor, Part 1

It was a lucky escape, and even the classically stoic Bruce had to acknowledge that. Most men who played dice with their lives didn't usually get lucky.

As it happened, he was greeted at Wayne Manor by a visibly concerned Alfred. "Your little scuffle has made it on the news, sir."

Sighing, Bruce relegated himself to the living-room couch, whereupon he subjected himself to the half-frenzied conversation that played itself on _Gotham Nightly News._ "Here we go again," he sighed.

"...the man wrestled with another male who, it has been reported, has ties to the cult The Heavenly Avengers. At this stage, our reports are purely speculative. However, it has been alleged the scuffle was started by billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne..." A faint smashing sound could be heard near the television.

"Alfred... get to the Batcave, _now_." Rather calmly under the circumstances, Alfred made his way to the manor's elevator and soon disappeared into the dark, musty caves. Making his way to the suit chamber, he closed his eyes for a brief moment. He opened his eyes, braced himself for what was to come, and took the Batsuit out of its storage space.

* * *

Damien Livingstone, along with several members of The Heavenly Avengers, had broken into Wayne Manor with one mission: to capture and murder the "saviour" of Gotham, the great heathen Bruce Wayne. He was going to pay for his sins with his blood.

"Brother Vincent," Livingstone hissed. "Find Wayne. Finish off his man-servant if you can find him!" His second-in-command, Vincent Carradine, nodded and ran inside the manor.

He addressed the others. "Ransack his den of sin. Destroy his worldly possessions." The brothers, at his urging, tore off to the living room. Livingstone himself grinned malevolently and twirled his cross pendant around with his fingers.

"You will be mine, Bruce Wayne."

* * *

Vincent Carradine ran along the main hallway, smashing ornate vases as he did so. His eyes searing with hatred, he reached the end and came across Bruce's bedroom. He was about to enter it when a low growl came to his ear.

"I don't think you'd better go in there." Batman stood opposite Vincent, his black cowl and cape looking as menacing as ever. His eyes fixated on Vincent's enraged face.

"HEATHEN!" he screamed as he traded blows with Batman. "You will pay with your own blood!"

At the main entryway of the manor was an old, exposed fireplace. A poker stood next to it, rusted and battered, but functional.

The pummels, punches and kicks continued as the two battlers took the action to the main entrance. With a kick to the face, Batman fell to the ground as Vincent scrambled to pick up the poker. He thrust it into the blazing embers and then emerged waving the flaming-hot poker around, grinning maniacally.

While still on the ground, Batman was able to kick the poker out of Vincent's hands for a time. He rained blows upon Carradine. He was met with a returning kick to the stomach, temporarily being winded. The poker returned again, being thrust near Batman's face.

"Burn in hell!" cackled Vincent with glee.

"Not quite," Bruce replied as he gave an almighty kick. Vincent, along with the poker, sailed into a nearby wall. The battered cult member laughed when he recovered. "Now is the time for you to be cast into the lake of sulfur," he beamed. Then he saw flames engulfing his jacket. To his horror, he tried stamping the fire out, but the flames piled higher and higher, reaching his body. Within seconds, his entire body, including his face, was engulfed in flame. He screamed in agony as he became scorched to the bone. After a few minutes of being burnt alive, his charred corpse slumped to the floor.

"Hope the lake of sulfur's treating you well," Bruce grimaced as he went to face the other crazed Heavenly Avengers followers.


End file.
